


In the Dark

by Lacinia



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Robot Sex, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:00:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacinia/pseuds/Lacinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If she isn’t human, what does that make him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark

The house is preternaturally quiet with Sarah and Derek out. When John’s the only human home he sometimes feels like no one even lives here it all. It’s the walls, he decides. Normal families have pictures on them. On one such night, John sits at his desk and attempts calculus. He’s wearing his headphones, but even the riot of music filling his whole head can’t quite distract him from the machine behind him. Cameron sits on the edge of his bed, naturally unnaturally still. He tries to fill his thoughts with integrals, but his eye slips, and he glances over. 

She looks beautiful, as always. The perverse lie of her appearance of delicacy is enhanced with a tank top. It looks like tissue. Like he could crumple all of it in his fist. A human girl would be cold. 

It occurs to him, suddenly, that he doesn’t have to wear his headphones and he slips them onto his neck, pulling the cord from the laptop. The house’s silence breaks like glass. 

“Is this the Smiths?” Cameron asks.

“No, this is—,” he starts, and then stops, realizing he doesn’t know. He’s just gotten used to the sound of guitar in his ears. “How do you know about the Smiths, anyway? Have you been talking to Morris?”

“Morris is my friend,” she says, and John wonders what her skin feels like. 

He wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to touch her. 

He swivels his chair around. “Cameron, in the future, did I ever—” he starts. “Did we ever—,” he tries again.

“Yes, John?” she asks.

He doesn’t finish his thought, kisses her instead.

He kisses her, and she doesn’t taste like metal, but a girl. He kisses her, but she doesn’t even move. He knows he should stop. 

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t stop himself, and she doesn’t stop him, when he pulls off her shirt. When he unhooks her bra. She doesn’t stop him when he slips a hand under her denim skirt and remover her red cotton panties. His own clothes go next, removed by his own trembling hands, and then he pushes the miniskirt up around her slender waist. He pushes himself into her. His fingers dig in to her perfect skin, and she never says a word. He thrusts and grunts and spends himself, and withdraws, sticky and limp and not looking her in the eyes. She stares up at him the same opaque way she always does, and he promises that he’ll never do it again. 

Cameron knows he already has.

**Author's Note:**

> If you actually ship John and Cameron but you ended up reading this, I am sorry.


End file.
